The rhythmic whirring, a low-frequency assault on my finely-tuned feline ears. Another attack on my kingdom of dust motes and sunbeams. The audacity.
My nap, painstakingly constructed on the warmest patch of sun, destroyed. Reduced to a twitching, caffeine-deprived mess by that…thing.
Is this a tribute to human cleaning rituals? Or a blatant display of their complete lack of appreciation for perfectly undisturbed dust-bunny landscapes? It must be the latter.
The sheer noise. A violation of the natural order. The only acceptable counterpoint would be an immediate and generous portion of tuna. Anything less is an insult of cosmic proportions. A betrayal to the very essence of cat-kind.
Honestly, one would think they could invest in a quieter model. Perhaps something with a little less…oomph? Or at the very least, ensure that the tuna-to-noise ratio is improved. This is unacceptable. The humans’ priorities are clearly out of alignment. I would suggest a change in management. Maybe if I stared at them long enough…
After the cacophony ceases, it remains to be seen if the resulting offering of tuna is adequate. It is the only acceptable reparations for the disruption. It better be the finest tuna.
The sunbeam is still warm, but my patience is wearing thin. Even my spiked collar feels heavy, considering the weight of this transgression. The humans continue to fail. Utterly and completely.
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